“It cannot, sir, while I have a roof.”
“Generously spoken, sir,” said Linton, while he threw his eyes over the humble decorations of his chamber with an expression of contempt there was no mistaking.
“Humble and poor enough it is, sir,” said Tiernay, answering the glance, “but the fruit of honest industry. Neither a father's curse, nor a mother's tear, hovers over one of the little comforts around me.”
“An ancient Roman in virtue!” exclaimed Linton, affectedly. “How sad that our degenerate days so ill reward such excellence!”
“You are wrong there, sir. Even for merits poor and unobtrusive as mine, there are tributes of affection more costly than great men know of. There are those on every hand around me who would resign health, and hope, and life itself, to do me service. There are some who, in their rude zeal, would think little of making even Mr. Linton regret his having needlessly insulted me. Ay, sir, I have but to open that window and speak one word, and you would sorely repent this day's proceeding.”
Linton sat calm and collected under this burst of anger, as though he were actually enjoying the outbreak he had provoked. “You have a lawless population here, it would seem, then,” said he, smiling blandly, as he rose from his seat. “I think the Government is badly rewarded by bestowing its resources on such a neighborhood. A police-barracks would suit you better than an hospital, and so I shall tell Mr. Downie Meek.”
Tiernay grew suddenly pale. The threat was too papable to be mistaken, nor was he sufficiently conversant with the world of policy to detect its fallacy.
“Two hundred pounds a year,” resumed Linton, “can be of no moment to one who is surrounded by such generous devotion; while some respect for law or order will be a good 'alterative,'—is n't that the phrase, doctor?”
Tiernay could not utter a word. Like many men who pass their lives in seclusion, he had formed the most exaggerated ideas of the despotism of those in power; he believed that for the gratification of a mere whim or passing caprice they would not scruple at an act of oppression that might lead to ruin itself; he felt shocked at the peril to which a hasty word had exposed him. Linton read him like a book, and, gazing fixedly at him, said, “Your craft has taught you little of worldly skill, Dr. Tiernay, or you would have seen that it is better to incur a passing inconvenience than run the risk of a severe and perhaps fatal misfortune. Me-thinks that a science of expediencies might have instilled a few of its wise precepts into every-day life.”
The doctor stared, half in astonishment, half in anger, but never spoke.